Dear Lonely Author,
I recently married. My young bride is learning how to cook. A month ago she asked me, “What do you think about my rump roast?” I answered her honestly, now I have a sexless marriage. What can I do to win her back?
Mickey in LA
Dear Laboratory Rat,
When it comes to your bride’s toxic cuisine honesty is the worst policy. Believe in what I say. Lonely Author has completed many chapters of his novels while exiled on the sofa for a lonely evening. Questions about her rump roast or any rump for that matter, should never be discussed. And while we are on the subject of dangerous questions, beware of the infamous do these pants make me look fat? Buy her roses, buy yourself Alka-Seltzer, and next time ask for a second helping.
Dear Lonely Author,
As you know, I had much success with my Twilight series of novels. So much success, I am intimidated and incapable of writing new books about other characters. What should I do?
Needing to write fresh Stephenie Meyer
I must admit you had tremendous success with your novels. Read and enjoyed each one. However, I am sorry to inform you that I watched the movies (at fifteen bucks a pop). Trust me your vampires weren’t the only thing that sucked. Move on.
Everyone have wonderful week.
Seven billion people dead; yet his selfish heart only mourned for one.
The distraught figure dragged his body to the ledge of the mountaintop, as if he alone towed the burdens of a dying planet. He looked down on the futuristic metropolis constructed over the ashes of mankind. The alien city with its pale glass structures resembled a crystal cemetery of broken dreams.
Clutching the last remaining evidence that humans once inhabited the Earth, he groaned.
Through misty eyes, Jake Cross admired a photograph of his wife Lisa. His heart pounded against his ribs like a relentless bill collector at the door. Intolerable emptiness grew inside him like a cancerous black hole, eating away at his brittle psyche, devouring his aching soul.
He pressed the photo against his heaving chest as if her image could wipe away his pain.
Who better to console him? Lisa always neutralized his sorrows with a smile or warm embrace. Wiping the moisture from his eyes, a warm breeze caressed his skin reminding him of her gentle touch. He trembled like a virgin relishing her first kiss. Would he eventually forget the sound of her soft voice?
Jake couldn’t live like this. Earth without Lisa would be as cold and desolate as Pluto. He vowed to search for her. He needed to know if she survived. A horrifying thought crept into his mind like a swarm of stampeding centipedes. What if she suffered the same fate as the seven billion others?
He rubbed the photo against his chest with violent motions like an irritated student hoping to erase an error from a page. He preferred to cling to diminishing hope because the alternative…..
Jake shut his moist brown eyes.
It would be easier to stop breathing than to live another day without her.
- – Jake Cross is the main character of my manuscript/screenplay Paradox.
Top Ten Disadvantages to Marrying A Writer
10- He encourages you to find your voice even when you don’t have laryngitis
9- You will be expected to critique the first draft of the Dear John letter he is writing for you.
8- Writer’s block prevents her from completing the grocery list.
7- During disagreements your spouse will always take the omniscient point of view.
6- He provides vivid descriptions of what he did in the bathroom.
5- The only time he will throw out the garbage if you refer to it as the slush pile.
4- During the middle of an argument your spouse stops to search for a thesaurus in order to avoid word repetition.
3- You go to a sex counselor and realize your spouse’s definition of climax is different from yours.
2- Your spouse will inform you the threatening tone in an IRS letter is an example of foreshadowing.
1- He reads your private diary at his weekly writing workshop.
Mabus strolled through the courtyard behind his Ziggurat Palace admiring the green plants and colorful flowers. Their delicious fragrance reminded him so much of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. He plucked a leafy flower to sniff its multi-colored petals. Relishing its fresh scent, he ignored the wilting stem. He entered a private cemetery. Walking past the small tombstones that marked his failures, he whispered, “Why did the flowers have to die?”
His mind wandered to the distant past, recalling the horrific fate of his wife and five children. A heinous act the aliens made him watch. His enemies offered to spare his young heirs, if he agreed to relinquish his kingdom. Mabus declined and his adversaries showed no mercy. One by one they dismembered his family. Even as his children’s cries tormented his ears and their warm blood splattered his anguished face, he refused to concede.
The atrocious memory remained lodged in his soul like an annoying nail hammered into his skull. The ultimate sacrifice saved the kingdom and the planet Sumer. Now, thousands of years later here on Earth, he refused to permit the human epidemic to contaminate his conquest. He needed to protect his people and the children from the violent humans full of intolerance and hate. The revolting species must be eliminated.
Grounding the little flower in his powerful hand, Mabus walked away, vowing to protect his community as the waning cries of his children echoed in his recollection.
– Mabus is the antagonist in my novel/screenplay trilogy Paradox